


Dark Perception

by Palpalou, PockyGhost



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Magic, Dark Thoughts, Fae!Hannibal, Hallucinations, Horror, Lots of nudity, M/M, Magic AU, Manipulation, hermit!Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palpalou/pseuds/Palpalou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PockyGhost/pseuds/PockyGhost
Summary: It's been years since Will left society to live in the forest with his pack. His life seems ideal, until a dark presence appears in the forest. At first, Will fears that the horrible visions might be encephalitis, but then a mysterious fae saves him from an attack.But does the faerie truly have his best intentions in mind?





	Dark Perception

**Author's Note:**

> This collaboration for the Hannibal Big Bang is made of Palpalou (wonderful artist, and amazing Beta-reader) and PockyGhost (the writer). It's been a lot of fun! :)

 

 

As Will walked his usual route to the river, he luxuriated in the cool wet feel of it on his feet. Every so often he would walk over a patch of fallen pine needles and they would pull away at the dirt clinging to his toes. With his pack wandering nearby and the guaranteed seclusion of his private property afforded him, he felt free. So free that over the years, after separating from society, Will had taken to making these walks in the nude after a few gruelingly hot summers.

Now it was nearing autumn, and he wanted to enjoy the sun while it was still warm enough outside. Patches of sunlight danced across his shoulders and baked into his skin so that even in the shadows he was never cold.

Contemplating the sunburn he might receive if he fished on his customary sunbathing rock all day, it took a moment to realize that the subtle build of anxiety was not a result of potential peeling. It was an odd feeling, seemingly unattached to any particular worry. Just as he noticed it, the dogs started growling softly around him.

Ever since an incident just the year before when the dogs’ had tried to warn him of a mother bear and her cubs, he had learned to take caution whenever they became agitated.

So when the pack came together in a chorus, getting louder as the Will’s apprehension grew, he crouched low with his back against the nearest tree and looked around carefully. For a moment it seemed like nothing—perhaps the dogs were just interested in a stray skunk or opossum—when suddenly he felt a dark and oppressive presence wash over him. Dominate him. As he began to feel lower and colder the shadows of the leaves and branches grew thicker on the soil until the entire ground was filled with writhing black masses and blood pooled up from the roots of the trees.

Then, just as quickly as it had grown, the horror evaporated to leave Will sweating and gasping in its wake.

As soon as his heart had calmed enough, Will noticed that his dogs had gathered around and were facing away as if defending against something. All except Winston, who was licking the sweat from his face and replacing it with the sticky feeling of drying saliva.

“Good boy, Winston,” he gasped out, and roughly massaged the nape of Winston’s neck. “Good job everyone, come ‘ere.”

The packrushed over to their master with tails between their legs, whining but less bothered than just a moment ago. They were afraid, just as scared as Will had been, but their instinct had been to protect each other and the weakest member of their pack. Will knew he was the weakest here. He had only been able to tremble in fear.

That night, long after the dogs had guided a slow and stumbling Will back to the cabin like a lost sheep, he sat in front of a small fire and listened to the wind howl by. He stared at the various iron weapons on the wall above the fire-place. They were the only things his father had owned that were handed down to him, and looking at them calmed him. The sound of a strong breeze reminded him of old shack houses on the edges of boatyards and listening to his father tell stories about each sword and dagger. Safe.

Reminiscing still comforted him, but as he had spent more time alone in his wood he accepted that a memory could no longer protect him. When he had worked in the field for the FBI he had needed those memories of watching a lit-up ship float in calm waters to save him from becoming someone else. Now, with the rest of humanity so far away it may as well not exist, Will had come to expect that all he needed was four wall and the dogs. His troubling experience in the forest made him question his decision to slowly let go of sweet memories.

He fell into an uneasy sleep, and remembered little of the night except that he woke up on three separate occasions to Winston worriedly licking at his face.

~~~

The rest of the week passed by slow. Bitty got stung by a bee on her muzzle after being a little too interested in a peculiarly buzzing flower, but it didn’t swell enough to be worrisome and Will had laughed it off. Lady and Indiana dragged home the carcass of a small deer, completely intact except for the shallow marks on where they had grabbed it. Because there was no clear cause of death, Will had burnt it and not let any of the dogs each it. Who knew what diseases it could carry.

As focused as he was on the dogs, Will tried to convince himself that it was their antics that kept him from walking down to the river. He tried to forget about the moment he had on the path, and to forget about how similar the experience had been to his encephalitis hallucinations. Instead, he applied himself to mulling over more carefree thoughts.

That week he lived off jerky and the fruits and vegetables from his garden, and bathed in his seldom-used tub. He was just starting to forget to be fearful when, while picking perfectly ripe tomatoes, he felt it again.

Unlike last time, it did not come quickly. Instead it was like the waves of a rising tide. First it was just a little apprehension as he examined the leaves for aphids, then it became a pool of dread in his stomach while he snapped tomatoes off the main vine, and then it crashed on him with the full weight of terror that felt like when he had held his breath too long as a child swimming in the ocean and thought he wouldn’t reach the surface in time.

Winston and Nilla were whining and baring from inside the house where they had been napping, and the rest of the pack laid down submissively around Will as he fell to his knees under the overwhelming presence.

Out of the corner of his eyes he realized he could see a black shape standing tall among the trees. He couldn’t make himself turn to see it more clearly, and didn’t dare lose sight of it. Any movement would mean death, he knew it. His eyes burnt and his chest hurt with the tension of keeping his breath in.

The creature moved in a wide circle around the house, and when it was on the opposite side of Will’s peripheral from which it had started, it began to walk away. As the dark figure was swallowed by the dense shadow of trees, so the fear grew less, like the current being dragged back out at the whim of the moon.

He could breathe again.

He went inside to Winston and Nilla jumping up and nosing at any part of him they could reach. Though the immediate threat no longer felt present, Will was in a thick liquid haze of shock and disbelief. Honey dripping into his mouth, his nose, down to his lungs. Choking on fear, because he feared that he knew what was happening.

He called in Linen, the only dog still outside. She had been abused most of her life and didn’t handle stress well. She crawled into to house, leaving a dark trail of urine in the dirt. Will pulled her close and clutched her trembling body as he locked the door. Then he collapsed fully to the ground and the dogs made one big puppy pile around him. They looked to their alpha for comfort, but he had none to give.

It was encephalitis again, it had to be. Nothing else had affected him so strongly, been able to tear images from his worst nightmares this way. Even the surreal quality, a step away from the real and waking world, was a clue. Last time it had been easy to convince himself there was nothing wrong with him, that it was only a downside to his empathy and getting too close to the minds of the supernatural for the Bureau. He had not realized the sickness was in him, physically, until it was nearly too late. He knew better than to delude himself now. Life had never been very forgiving to Will Graham.

Later that afternoon he called the nearest hospital and made an appointment for testing in a week’s time. He didn’t tell them his suspected diagnosis. If he suggested it over the phone, they would want him to come in immediately and he hadn’t figured out how to arrange for the pack’s care yet. There was so many of them that it would cost a small fortune for them to stay at a professional service if he was kept for observation.

Briefly he thought of Alana, who he hadn’t talked with since he had walked out on their last session years ago. When he was in for encephalitis treatment last time, she had taken care of them. It had been the only time she had crossed the doctor-patient line. He wondered if she would do it for him again now, if they could start anew and become friends, lovers. But those thoughts were a fairy-tale, a “once upon a time” that would never be. People weren’t good for him, and he was hardly good for them.

Finally, he decided simply to leave the doors of the cabin open, with as much dry food and water out as he had dishes for. If they ran out before he got back, they could drink from the nearby river and hunt on the surrounding lands. Nilla had even caught a few fish before just for fun. They wouldn’t starve, and there were enough of them to scare off any predators.

His mind settled with having a solid plan, Will readied himself for bed that night. He washed the dishes and stared out the kitchen window, taking in the scenery. Perhaps he would go for a walk, leaving all the lights on and looking back to see that old comforting image of a ship at sea. If there was anything worth fighting for, it was the sliver of peace he had carved out for himself in the forest.

As he was drying the last of the silverware, he felt the fear again—creeping in, like the last time. Only now, it stood directly in front of him. The ghastly figure lingered there, like Pan from the myths of ancient Greece, except the horns on the beast were that of a stag, towering tall enough to pierce the sky. It’s skin was like tar, black and glistening. Even from far away, Will saw its emaciated ribs.

In Will’s experience, faeries often emulated the characteristics of native animals and colored themselves in some sort of camouflage. A stag-human hybrid that blended in with the black of night was about the most menacing fae he could imagine. But still, in the back of his mind where he wanted to believe he wouldn’t make up his own monsters, he felt the need to go out and investigate to confirm it was just a vision.

Will slowly pulled on his coat, terror leisurely crawling up his throat. While putting on his shoes and battling the instincts that made him want to huddle down with his pack, he glances over at the dogs and saw them eyeing him curiously. With him acting calm despite his fear, they seemed entirely unconcerned. It was the same as when he had his encephalitis-induced hallucinations. The dogs only reacted if he did. Still, he had to check.

He wandered outside in a fog of mixing compulsions. The sun had just rolled under the treetops and the sky was lit up pink and purple while everything below was cast in thin shadows. Making his way to where he had seen the creature, he looked everywhere for signs but found none, not even prints in the dirt, except the fear. As he wondered about his sanity, the anguish rushed up on him so quickly that Will though he could see a hundred malformed stag-men creeping in closer.

A horrified scream built in his throat, but before it could escape his frozen lungs a soothing warm light arrived from somewhere on his left and his spirits were instantly lifted. The closer the amber brightness came, the further away his fears drifted, like dandelion puffs on a warm breeze. In the middle of the soft light, a form was becoming clearer. It was that of a handsome man, wrapped in a cloak of dark feathers, with a crown made of bone or horn on his head.

The fae, for he could be nothing else with such a presence, offered Will a hand and a gentle smile. “Come, it is not safe for you outside,” he beckoned, and Will followed him back to the cabin.

The dogs were a raging mess inside, and the fae waited for their master to calm them before asking to come in. Will made them both tea in silence and they sat together at the table when it was ready. Despite the danger inherent in associating with the supernatural, Will felt safe in the stranger’s presence.

"Did you feel it too? The-- fear, the presence," Will asked suddenly. He had to know, right now, if the faerie had saved him from an outside force or his own deteriorating consciousness.

"No, but there has been a magic plaguing you. I dispelled its latest attack, though it was not aimed at me.”

Will couldn’t help but be awed at the strength this unknown fae must have to fight off the presence from before. Knowing now that the emotion had not originated from himself, he realized how powerful the magic must have been. Affecting one single person in an area required extreme precision with as unwieldy a tool as magic, and it was even more impressive when the strength of the terror he had experienced was taken into account.

“I don’t suppose, well, I guess a nickname would do. Do you have anything I might call you by?” Will wondered out loud. For the fae, names had power of their own, but his father had always told him that apologies and appreciation meant nothing if you didn’t address someone by name. It had been so ingrained that he asked the faerie before rationalizing that it hardly mattered in this context.

“Hannibal,” replied the faerie before Will had a chance to backtrack the question to inexistence.

Will was surprised. It sounded very much like a real fae name. “Hannibal. Thank you for your help.” He was shy to add anything else, but Hannibal had cleared him of any medical diagnosis and perhaps saved his life, depending on how malevolent the other faerie had been. Out of deep gratitude he added, “Is there anything I might do for you in return?”

Hannibal’s smile was sharp, and with his high cheekbones and deep-set eyes, he looked nearly demonic for a moment. Then Will blinked and his benevolent savior once again looked the part.

“Under any other circumstances I would think it quite rude to impose on someone when I don’t even know their name, but since you have offered, I shall request to spend the night,” was the simple reply.

Will was a bit thrown, but agreed to the payment. He had plenty of fish in the freezer, and he pulled out a small trout defrosted quickly in the humid heat. Will had not offered a name in return because he couldn’t think of one he would respond to. The closest he could come up with was his father’s name, which he still turned to after nearly twenty years away, but he once heard a rumor of a surfer whom a siren had drowned with only the maiden name of its victim’s mother. It was always best to be cautious when dealing with magical creatures.

Will served Hannibal, who ate alone, as Will and the dogs had already eaten earlier, and then set out a bed of sheets for himself on the living room floor. The creature had saved his life, and Will felt that it had earned the only bed in the house. A quick request had him hanging a sheet over the iron swords in full view of the dining table, so that there was a barrier for Hannibal’s comfort.

After Hannibal had eaten his fill, picking through the dish like he judged all of human cuisine based on the one meal, they both retired. The pack huddled near Will on the floor, Winston pressed sideways against is back. With the protection of the fae in the next room, Will slept as well as when he had first moved to the cabin. Even if he didn’t consciously want to trust Hannibal, his subconscious had little issue and he fell to sleep even sooner than most of the dogs.

~~~

Will awoke slowly, stretching luxuriously in place and letting his mind wander in and out of dreams, until he recognized the sound of panfrying. That made him spring up out of his sheets like the devil was chasing, only to find Hannibal cooking naked at the stove. He would have claimed it was bacon from the sound and scent, but knew for a fact that he had none in his house.

“What are you making?” he asked cautiously. It was rumored that fae could not lie, but he would rather play it safe than sorry.

“A protein scramble to start the day,” the cultured voice replied. “Then I was thinking we might walk to the river and I could watch you fish.”

The lack of clothing had struck Will dumb, and he was pushed even farther off balance at Hannibal’s suggestion. They had agrees to the terms the night before, but Hannibal was acting like the debt wasn’t settled.

“What?” Will asked rather stupidly.

Hannibal turned to give him a benign smile and Will got an eyeful. He was just starting to wonder if fae had different rules of propriety when he realized that he was also naked, never having dressed from the night before. In the middle of cooking dinner for his guest, Will had taken off his jacket to reveal nothing underneath. He had gotten so used to being alone that clothes hardly mattered except on cold nights and during winter.

Will almost ran off to find cover when he realized that the reason he had not noticed his nudity earlier was that he felt so attuned to the faerie that he felt no embarrassment. Instead of potentially feeding the creature’s mirth with scrambling to cover himself up, Will inquired after what would be in the meal beside bacon.

“Don’t fear, I source all my meat locally and ethically,” Hannibal assured, skirting the question.

“I think you should leave,” Will said.

Hannibal paused in the middle of cracking eggs into the porcelain enamel skillet. “Why would you think that?”

Will frowned at the ominous undercurrent of the question.

“You removed the curse, and all you wanted in return was to spend the night. I’ve already thanked you, so I think it’s time you left.” With every exchange, he realized how truly dangerous a situation he was in. The curse was evidence of some magic creature out to get him, and a faerie in one’s house was nothing to laugh at. He had to tread carefully yet firmly. To offer offense was to ask for death, but it seemed that doing nothing might lead to the same outcome.

“Well,” Hannibal offered thoughtfully a moment of silence as he scrambled the eggs. “I suppose by all rights you are correct, even if rather rude.” In a flash the fire from the gas stove bust up to nearly reach the ceiling and then settled down just as quick. “At least enjoy the breakfast,” he said. Then he was gone.

Will, on autopilot in disbelief that his somewhat forceful request had been heeded, picked up a small piece of coagulated egg and meat and was swallowing before he could think better of it. He almost gagged to bring it back up, until he remembered that it was more the acceptance of food than the actual ingestion that was laced with magic. Real life was hardly as direct as a Greek myth; he wouldn’t be locked in the underworld for the winter over three pomegranate seeds versus twelve. Since he had already accepted the food, he may as well eat his fill. It would make no difference in terms of effect if it had been laced with glamor.

He ate the breakfast straight from the pan and reflected on how he should get a cast iron set to replace the current one. It would be expensive to replace them all, but may be worth it if Hannibal wanted to make a habit off cooking for him. Better to remove the possibility for temptation than potentially fail at denying it, especially when he now knew how delicious that temptation would be.

Will stuffed himself with three-quarters of the scramble before he couldn’t manage another bite. The rest he set down for the dogs and they enjoyed it just as much. He went through his morning routine happy to note that he felt no odd urges or emotions that could have indicated the food had been imbued with magic. Instead he felt merely refreshed from having the weight of a potential medical condition lifted from his shoulders, and a large hot meal.

When he took down the sheets he had hung up for Hannibal’s comfort, he touched one of the iron swords and didn’t feel anything but the cold metal. He had once heard a wives tale that touching iron while glamoured sent tingles and sparks through your body as it reacted to the magic. It wasn’t definitive proof, but he knew of nothing that was.

He folded the sheet to put away in the cupboard and grabbed his dirty laundry on the way back to the living room. His bedding would need washing after Hannibal slept in it and he may as well clean his jacket and the dogs’ bed covers also. It was turning into a warm sunny day so he decided to bring it all down to the river instead of washing it in his bathtub. Just when he closed the basket, his eyes were caught by the selection of daggers in his father’s iron collection. Having no need of them before, Will was inclined to feel like he shouldn’t bother with them now. However, a niggling feeling at the base of his neck reminded him of the power needed to cast as strong and specific a curse as the one he had been subjected to, and how powerful Hannibal had to be to remove it.

He walked slowly over to the display, a half formed idea in mind. He took down the smallest blade, it barely spanned the width of his hand, and brought it to his work bench. There he cut a short length of rope and strung the dagger on it before tying it around his neck. The cold heavy metal hung awkwardly, but he already felt much safer knowing that his mind couldn’t be taken by an outside source as long as his skin maintained contact with the iron. He grabbed his basket and called the pack out before beginning the short hike to his favorite spot by the river.

~~~~~~~~~

Most of the blackberries by the river’s edge weren’t yet ready to eat, but the small blossoms created a luscious and fruity aroma that was nearly intoxicating in the heat of the day.

Will had already done his washing, ate the handful of ripe berries he could find as a snack, and had then settled down for a nap. He woke to Bitty shaking water off her soggy coat right next to his face, and wiped the splashes off his cheek good-naturedly.

Most of the dogs had got their fill of frolicking in the water except for Buck who raced out of the shallows to romp more with Bitty. Will laughed loudly at their antics-- two small, enerjetic dogs running through a field of larger and lethargic ones. Full of good mirth, he waded out into the cool water to clean himself of dog slobber and the dirt clinging to his entire backside from his nude nap.

At chest height he dunked down to wet his hair and scratch lightly through the curls. He popped back up with a grin, feeling like a boy again. He used to jump in the ocean every day before bed, his father saying it counted as a bath. Will took small handfuls of the coarse sand-like mud at the bottom and scrubbed it over his skin, just like childhood.

Somewhat sun-drunk and distracted y memories, Will didn't see the wave that built behind him and brought him down. It crashed heavy on his shoulders without warning and pressed him under. Not having even the chance to inhale before suddenly being underwater, Will panicked instantly.

He kicked and paddled and clawed all too no avail. The surface of the water may as well have been made of brick for as effective as his struggles were.

Will watched hopelessly as bubbles escaped his mouth and joined the air. His lungs ached ad burned, his vision was becoming spotty with flashes of darkness and shadows of light. The lightheadedness was begining to pull him away from consciousness when he saw Hannibal through the mirror of water, looking down on him indifferently.

For a moment he though the fae was just going to watch him die, but then he spoke.

"In order for me to save you, you will have to remove the iron from around your neck," Hannibal said. Despite the rushing current babbling loudly and Will's own desperate gurgles, the fae's voice sounded clear and light like a whisper in an ear.

Will knew he would regret the loss later, but was too preoccupied with his ow safety to devise a way to save the heirloom. Using the blade itself, he quickly cut the rope from his neck and then dropped it all.

Hannibal's whole body was under water for only a moment before they broke the surface together. Will gulped down air desperately and the dogs at shore seemed to just realize that he had been in distress. Winston dove in and padded toward them.

 

 

Will looked up to Hannbal's eyes, cheek pressed to chest hair.

"Thank you," he said, feeing overwhelmed.

Though Hannibal didn't smile outright, his eyes crinkled up on the edges in a ridiculously attractive way, and Will believed it to be a close enough thing. "You're welcome.."

"Will. My name is Will."

"You're very welcome, Will."

Despite his recent shock and the comforting safety he felt in Hannibl's arms, Will was on his feet the moment they were on dry land. Winston had swam beside him while Hannibal walked them out, and was there to support Will's shaking legs. Though he was able to take a few seps without clinging for balance, he felt that Hannibal was just indulging him. Smug bastard.

He was just about to tell Hannibal that he was free to leave, it started coughing on the words as they came up. Hannibal crouched beside him.

"I've always known that humans were wea, but to be so ill after just a few minutes without air... Surely none of you want to stay in such a fragile form?" The fae asked.

"It's not like I had a choice," Will retorted after catching his breath again.

Hannibal grinned. "And if you did now?"

Will couldn’t think of an appropriate response. Either way had the potential to set the fae off. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful for having his puny human life saved as that risked Hannibal’s offence and he might decide to take that life away. However, he was even more afraid of agreeing and then being transformed into something else, something other. Neither seemed like the best choice, so Will diplomatically said, “I don’t know.”

Hannibal looked unsatisfied with his answer, but dropped the subject.

Instead he went on to stoically mother-hen Will into laying down and drinking several cups of water. They were unfiltered from the river, but Will had drank from it before. Though it was comforting to some deeply buried part of himself, Will mostly felt anxious while being taken care of. Sometimes he felt like his whole life was a struggle for independence and self-sufficiency.

“Hannibal,” he tried to push away yet another drink off water from the cup Hannibal had conjured out of nowhere, but the fae was too insistent. “Hannibal! I’m fine now, truly.” He started pushing himself up to stand and show how much better he was. It didn’t work.

Hannibal looked directly into Will’s eyes and heaved in a huge breath. Light flooded in, blinding, and everything seemed to be painted in neon technicolor. Will felt joyous, high, completely disoriented in the best of ways. It was the complete opposite of how he had felt while under the curse, and he laughed when he remembered those bad feelings. Now he felt rejuvenated and free, like any old fear or pain was nothing but a bad dream meant to be forgotten.

When Hannibal exhaled it was off to the side, no further magic needed. Will understood the point. Hannibal was a very powerful fae not to be trifled with. Just because his magic was of a different sort than most men feared did not mean that it could not be used for evil. In those few moments of bliss, Will would have done anything Hannibal had suggested to him.

So he submitted to the care Hannibal wanted to give. He had not been raised to be easily cowed, but the euphoria he had just been subjected to was as disgusting as the torture of the curse. Will knew who he was, but that understanding had been tenuous since the Minnesota Shrike and only got worse whenever his empathy or emotions were involved.

Even after Hannibal escorted Will back to his cabin and built a fire, Will was dazed and confused, pulled in a million directions. A large part of him was detached, unconsciously mimicking the faerie. A small piece was still floating on waves of calm happiness, still tied to the forced emotions.

The smallest fragment, a niggling feeling in the back of his mind just as surreal yet true as the rest, was scared of what could happen to him in Hannibal’s presence and angry to have been magiced. Of course he knew that any fae was dangerous, but before being spelled into lassitude his only experience with Hannibal had been mostly positive, having been saved twice. He felt a bit betrayed, even though he knew it was silly to have trusted.

Hannibal bustled around the cabin doing god knows what outside Will’s frame of vision, but he was so dead and disconnected after the emotional rollercoaster that he couldn’t do much but lay blankly on his couch. Eventually Hannibal tired of seeing him lay there blankly and took Will to bed. He dreamed of many things, dark and bright and terrifying. The looming black Pan-like figure of the fae in the forest crawled in the shadows of all his dreams.

When he woke from his long nap, his lungs burned with righteous anger nearly as fiery as when he had been drowning. Will resolved to grab the largest weapon from off the livingroom wall and chase Hannibal out of his home. He had no magic of his own, but he had an old colleague who did. Even if Brian Zeller didn’t like him, a call to Beverly would ensure he got whatever talismans and runes were necessary. Will hadn’t talked to anyone from his old life since he left it, but Beverly had an easy comradery that was always on offer and the severity of this situation had resolved him.

He planned quickly as he crept out of the bedroom and heard Hannibal singing a soft sad song in another language he couldn’t identify. He didn’t let himself be distracted, even as intriguing a sound the fae made. Will needed to take back control, he wouldn’t be violated again.

He was so focused on his goal of getting Hannibal out, so sure that to find his wall empty left him standing stupidly still in the middle of the room. He didn’t even hear the fae stop singing and walk into the room.

“I took the liberty of removing temptation from you, Will. After all, I may have saved you last time with barely any payment, but this time I will not be chased out until we have agreed to settle your debt.”

So haughty and despicable. So sure that without iron Will would be unable to fight him, and how true the prediction. But that didn’t mean that Will wouldn’t try to hold his ground. Time and sleep had ordered his thoughts, and he was once again fairly sure of himself.

“Hannibal, I want you to leave. Now. We didn’t discuss any payment, and you don’t have my permission to be here.”

Hannibal laughed—just as much censure as amusement.

“Rude, Will. Quite rude. You haven’t even asked what I want in return and already you are sending me away.” Hannibal stalked closer until Will felt weighted down by his presence, and fear of what payment Hannibal had in mind. However, instead of lifting a hand against him, Hannibal just sat down gracefully on the middle of the couch. Even looking up at Wil, it was clear the faerie had all the power in the exchange.

On edge, Will bit out, “What would you like then?”

“You,” he hissed and for a moment Hannibal’s whole body looked made of shadows, branches growing from his head. It was terrifying and reminiscent of some horrible thing Will couldn't place—like déjà vu—but it was over in the blink of an eye. Still, when Hannibal smiled again, his teeth looked barely perceivably sharper. “But I will settle for sharing each meal with you for the next three days, and a kiss to seal the deal.”

Will felt vulnerable knowing that he could not refuse. Without the threat of being able to defend himself, he only had Hannibal’s word that he would leave after the three days were up and could only hope that the food would not be imbued with magical intent.

Violated, he just wanted the fae to leave. So he bent down and pressed his mouth to Hannibal’s in more of a grimacing bite than a kiss, but when he quickly pulled back Hannibal was smiling like a cat who caught the canary.

And just like last time in the kitchen, he simply disappeared.


End file.
